Poetry Month

In Despair

He's lost him utterly.      And from now on he seeks
in the lips of every new      lover that he takes
the lips of that one: his.      Coupling with every new
lover that he takes      he longs to be mistaken:
that it's the same young man,      that he's giving himself to him.

He's lost him utterly,      as if he'd never been.
The other wished—he said—      he wished to save himself
from that stigmatized      pleasure, so unwholesome;
from that stigmatized      pleasure, in its shame.
There was still time, he said—     time to save himself.

He's lost him utterly,      as if he'd never been.
In his imagination,      in his hallucinations
in the lips of other youths      he seeks the lips of that one;
He wishes that he might      feel his love again.

--C. P. Cavafy